


Marcus Volturi: "___" Would Include...

by BOOdalinski



Series: The Volturi [1]
Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-03-09 20:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BOOdalinski/pseuds/BOOdalinski
Summary: If only Meyers had focused on the Volturi... *sigh*Ch 1:Meeting His S/O - How Marcus Met His Soulmate (Imprint)Ch 2:Talking to His S/O - A Tour of Castle VolturiCh 3:Answering His S/O's Questions - Talking About VampiresCh 4:His S/O Being DrunkCh 5:Admitting His Feelings to His S/OCh 6:Modeling for His S/O - Being an Art Reference





	1. Meeting His S/O

She turned to follow her group, but hesitated, letting others funnel past her into the antechamber. A feeling of dread was welling up within her. What the heck? She frowned. 

As the last people passed her, she took a reluctant step forward.  _No, no, no!_  Again, she stopped. Frowning, she placed a hand over her racing heart. _Leave_. She backed away, and in the next moment, realized why her instincts had spoken up. There was a heartbeat of silence. Then all hell broke loose.

_An eruption of screams. Suddenly a stampede of frightened people came crashing toward her like a massive wave. She was easily swept up and flung about in the mindless tide. Dully, she spotted flashes of movement. When she found her footing, she didn’t relate it to the decrease in people. She met eyes with a woman across the room. Suddenly, the man—Aro—latched onto her neck. The next instant, a bloodless body was on the ground._

_She scrambled back, running into a heavy wooden chair. Without thought, she scurried beneath the antique table. Her hand blindly clutched the thick wood leg as she watched the slaughter. It couldn’t be called anything else. Tears welled in her eyes. Husbands tried to protect their wives. One man’s hand pressed protectively over the swell of his wife’s belly. A moment later he was dead. Then she was dead._

_A little boy with sandy blonde hair was crying, face red as he screamed for his mother. People ran frantically about him as he sat on the ground. Another moment, his little body was tossed negligently to the stone floor. She looked at the closed eyes, the parted lips. Blood seeped out onto the stone floor, cooling as it reflected the dim torch light._

_She lifted her gaze and saw one of the monsters. He looked about for his next victim. She almost sobbed when those red eyes landed on her. In a blink, he was before her and she cried out as the chair was flung from her grasp. It splintered against the stone wall. She looked up in horror. Red eyes, alive with hunger and…excitement? The next thing she knew, she was dangling off the ground, staring straight into his face._

Charlotte awoke with a start. Her head swung about, searching her surroundings. Lush silks gleamed in the moonlight, and a dying fire crackled from the hearth. All in all, not where she should have been. 

Pushing into a seated position, she hunched over with head in hands. Her cheeks were wet and she sniffled, wiping away the tears. 

. . .

Marcus paced for several moments, then returned to his seat. Fists clenched, he silently brooded over his predicament. Aro approached and held out his hand. Wordlessly, Marcus allowed the contact.  

 _He threw the chair aside and plucked up the human by her nape. He bared his teeth. She gave a cry…_ _Marcus beat back the image in anguish_. Gods, what have I done? _She’d trembled in fear—_ _arched against his grip, grimacing in pain. Tried to pry herself free._ From me _. He could have snapped her neck without realizing what she was to him_.

 _Marcus paced. How could he rectify his errors? She, his mate, had seen him at the worst possible time._ To wait so long, and for this? _For him to botch their meeting? He’d_ attacked _her. He imagined going to her, only for her to scream in fear._

_How could he have been so blind? Why hadn’t he sensed who she was? He could have spared her that sight._

After a moment, Aro sighed and stepped back. “Ah, yes. She is so young,” he mused. “But if shown our better nature, she will come to accept a new life here.”   

“Perhaps it would be best to turn her now.” 

Marcus’s gaze snapped to Caius. He growled harshly, standing to face him.

“Now, now,” Aro said, holding up his hands. “There is no need to be alarmed. Caius was merely making a suggestion.”

“She won’t understand if she’s still human,” Caius murmured, speaking directly to Marcus. “If she’s turned…”

“Then she will experience the thirst first hand,” Sulpicia finished. She looked to Athenadora. “Perhaps Athena and I might first speak with her.” The second female nodded in agreement.

“No,” Marcus hissed. His impassioned tone caught them off guard. “She will not be frightened so soon after what has occurred.”

“Yet she cannot be sheltered from our kind, brother. The sooner she begins to know us the faster her fear will be erased.” 

“Sulpicia is correct, brother,” Athena agreed. 

Aro placed his palms together in thought. “Alas, we none of us truly recall what it is to be human,” he sighed. “Though I feel she may prove beyond our expectations. I am rather interested to see how she will adapt over the coming days. No doubt, she will make an excellent addition to our family.” He looked to Marcus. “I saw in her memories that she is quite openminded. She will not be too difficult to win over, my friend.”

“Yet if she has family, she will resist,” Caius reminded them. “Again, brother, were she vampire, the impossibility of returning to her old life would be before her.”

Marcus slammed his fist on the table, smashing it in two. “I said no! She will not be turned against her will.” 

“Do you plan to let her grow old and wither before your eyes?”

Marcus’s jaw clenched and he turned to Aro.

“What else have you seen in her memories?”

Aro smiled gleefully. “You two are well matched, similar in a multitude of ways. I intend to leave the hidden gems where they lay for you to discover.” 

“Do you plan to ignore the issue at hand, then?”

At this, Aro subtly looked heavenward as the two brothers squared off. 

“It is not your concern,” Marcus snarled. “Let it be.”

“You should turn her now.”

“No.” 

“It will have to be done,” Cauis snapped. “If not by you, then by the gods, I will turn her myself.” A mistake. In a flash, Marcus had the other vampire pinned. “You will not touch her!”

Caius freed himself, yet didn’t stop his case. “With each passing second that she remains mortal you tempt the Fates.”

“She will be given the choice.”

“She will be given the illusion of choice,” he countered. “And what if she sees through that?”

Silence.

“You have been like Death for too long, brother. If you will not seize your own happiness, then we must do it for you.”

Marcus growled low.

Athenadora placed a hand on Marcus’ arm. “Please, Marcus, understand that we long for you to return from your abyss. We worry that we will lose you again, this time forever.” 

Aro stepped forward. “I suspect,” he began, “that the human will be more understanding than you expect. Besides, you can be rather charming when you wish it, brother. She will enjoy you very much.” Marcus stiffened. The double entendre was thick, yet its underhanded nature did as intended.  _My mate…enjoying_ me. Immediately, his thoughts veered onto a baser path. He imagined her beneath him, writhing as he drove her to climax.

He was, in fact, so taken with this image that the sound of an approaching heartbeat managed to remain unnoticed. It wasn’t until a knock sounded at the door that he snapped back to the present. “Enter,” he bit out, voice constricted. The large door opened and he immediately regretted his sharp tone.


	2. Talking to His S/O

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the earlier conversations in their relationship.

What were they? Why hadn't he killed her? Though she had the answers, her mind still buzzed in a storm of chaos. Was this what shock felt like? A sudden clap jolted her back to reality.

* * *

 

Grinning, Aro clasped his hands together. “A tour, I think, is in order. Yet alas, I have previous commitments and so must delegate the honor to my second in command, Marcus.” He nodded to the man. “He is an ambassador of sorts and I think you two shall get on rather well.” 

 

Charlotte stole a glance to Marcus. For obvious reasons, she distrusted this particular vampire, yet he still had that strange light in his eyes. Rather than a cursory glance, her gaze lingered a moment before she hastily looked away, cheeks heating. 

“We have many intriguing areas within the castle, yet may I suggest…the archival rooms?”

Charlotte tilted her head.

“Sort of the ‘attic’ of _Castello Volturi_ , if you will.” 

An attic—something known to house unexpected objects? Her heart sped up at the prospect. Attempting to hide her excitement, she nodded. “If you don’t mind…” Her gaze darted to Marcus. _Might as well get used to him_. God, she wished she'd brought her pepper spray.

“Not at all,” Aro replied, grinning. “It has been too long since we’ve had someone so interested in forgotten things.” 

She chanced another peak and he was still eyeing her.

・・・

As they walked, Marcus purposefully matched his stride to hers. Even if he weren’t a vampire, he doubted she’d have been able to keep pace with him. The female was so petite.

“You must have many questions.”

She stole a glance at him. “A few.”

“Ask and I will answer.”  

She remained silent. Finally, she parted her lips, but seemed to change her mind. 

“Why do you hesitate?” 

She gazed at him. “I don’t want to offend you.”

He almost scoffed at that. “You may ask me anything and I will answer honestly.”  

She nodded and looked at the walls. “How old is this place?” 

“The center of Volterra is three thousand years old.”

“Wow,” she breathed. She thought about her time in Rome. How old were the ruins there? “Have you ever been to the Colosseum in Rome?”

“Yes, many times.”

She visibly perked up at that. “Wait, did you get to see it before it was a ruin?”

“Yes,” he answered slowly, fighting a smirk. He suspected a flood of questions was soon to follow.

She sucked in a breath. “You mean you were in the Colosseum during the Roman Empire?”

Now he did smile. “It is impolite to inquire after a person’s age, is it not?”

She looked shocked, then giggled at his teasing. “Oh, but you don’t look a day over twenty-six at most.” A pause and she narrowed her eyes, studying him closely. “Actually,” she mused, “I wonder what age you really were when you were turned.”

He met her gaze with a lifted brow. Undeterred, she studied his features with a shrewd eye. After a moment she gave a decisive nod. 

“Well?”

She looked to him. “Huh?”

“You have a guess, I can see it swirling behind your eyes.”

“That’s true,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to be  _too_  rude. After all, if you lived through the Roman Empire, that means you lived through the Victorian era.” She gave a mock shudder. “I don’t want to risk provoking any lingering extremist etiquette rules.” 

She looked to him. “And you’re one of the founding members of the Volturi?”

“I am.”

“So you’re at least three thousand years old?”

“Correct.”

She absently nodded. “Nice.” Her eyes took in his appearance. He forced himself to appear unaware. Would she approve of him? What was she thinking? “I thought Romans wore their hair short,” she said. “But I guess that would have been the Late Roman Empire, maybe? Or…well, I was going to say if you were a slave, but I thought…” She blushed. “I don’t know that much about ancient history,” she admitted. “I was just curious.”

“I’m four thousand years old. During that time, we did wear our hair longer.”

She nodded. “Ah, I see.” A pause. “Well, it works. I mean…it suits you. Not that you need my approval…obviously.” Another pause. “Yep…” With her mouth pressed into a flat line, she turned to continue down the corridor.

He wore a small smile as he walked beside her. That she was thinking was palpable. He watched, intrigued. 

She parted her lips and another flood of words escaped. “But even if someone didn’t know you were immortal, they’d still think the longer hair works for you. And not many men can pull off a ponytail. You’ve got to have the right…something to make it work.”

Mortified at the fumble, she remained silent--grappling for a different subject. _Thump, thump! Thump, thump!_ She placed a hand over her heart. 

 

“How much can you hear? Vampires, I mean.”

“You would need to be a vampire to truly know that.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not planning on being all oracle-esque are you?”

“Ask and see.”

A pause. Lips pursed, she asked, “Can you hear conversations through walls?”

“The walls in Volturi are sound-proofed specifically so that vampires  _can’t_  hear. We are a private people.” 

“But with normal walls you can?”

“Yes.”

So he could probably hear her heart. _Shit_. “Can you drink anything other than blood?”

“Yes, though it would be unpleasant. I would not choose to do so.”

“Does blood taste different depending on the alcohol content? And if so which do you prefer—drunk or sober?”

He considered her question. “As I cannot become inebriated, taste is the sole factor when dealing in preferences. Age, health, sobriety, diet—all influence the blood. A human’s blood can be polluted by more than the drink.”

Her brows furrowed. “You can’t get drunk?”

“No.” _Though with a mate's blood_... He didn't finish the thought.

“I’m sorry.”

He blinked, returning to the present. “Why?"

“It must get…or…” A pause. “Does it get boring?” 

“One finds ways to amuse oneself.” _Like learning about you, little one_.

“That sounds rather cryptic.”

“Perhaps that was my aim.”

“Hmm.” She squinted at him. “Do you enjoy confusing people?”

“Do I confuse you?”

"I'm...not sure. Probably. I just..." She trailed off. “I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be confused…After all, I'm talking to a multi-thousand year old vampire. There's going to be a gap in intellect."

“You are more intelligent than many vampires I’ve met.”

She looked to him, trying to decide whether he was merely flattering her. 

"Even vampires can be complete fools."

"Does that mean there's still hope for me?" she half-teased.

"Oh, undoubtedly."

She laughed. _What a wonderous sound_.

"Oh," she gasped, her curiosity returning full force, "Do you-- _vampires, I mean_ \--ever age blood? Like wine?"

Marcus merely smiled for a moment. His mate was such a curious being. He'd enjoy teaching her all the things he'd learned through the ages.


	3. Talking About Vampires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte and Marcus talk about vampires and the Volterra Tour Groups.

“Is it overwhelming when you’re first turned? I feel like it could be a sensory overload—especially now-a-days. And if so, is it painful?”

“The turn itself is painful, but when you’re a vampire you can handle the new sensations. If anything, it’s the hunger that is overwhelming.”

“You mean the thirst for human blood? How much do vampires need? How often?”

“It depends on age. I can go a rather long time between meals, and those meals are typically lighter than that of a younger vampire.”

“Do you get stronger with age?”

“Yes.” A pause, then he added, “Though older vampires have much greater control of their strength.” 

Her heart-rate spiked, alerting him to her next question. “The weekend tour,” she said. She seemed to struggle for the right wording. “The Volturi feed every weekend?” 

“Yes.”

“So it’s not a tour. It’s never just a tour.”

“No.”

He carefully watched her. Eyes distant, she was obviously thinking about what she’d seen. He felt her deep sadness, then anger. She seemed to fight it.  

Suddenly, she asked, “How old are you?” And just like that, the inner turmoil ended. She’d pushed past it. A part of him was disappointed. He wanted to know her thoughts. Why didn’t she curse him? Call him a monster? It was almost as if she didn’t think him worth the effort.

“Four thousand years old.”

Her brows went up. Again, her gaze grew distant in thought. She nodded. “That explains a lot.” In what way? Did she think he’d lost his ability to feel? Did she see him as cold and rigid as the statues?

“Why didn’t you kill me? Were you just full?”

He hesitated. She noticed. “I do feel, Charlotte ”  

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I have done terrible things, I will not deny that, but I can and do feel. I may be soulless, but not heartless. Not yet, at least.”

“I didn’t think you were.” A pause. “Wait, did you say soulless?”

He sighed without detection. He should have realized she’d show no mercy. When she’d been afraid of making him uncomfortable, he should have known where the conversation would lead.  

“I’m not trying to make you sad or uncomfortable,” she said quickly. “I just…want to understand. I’m not judging you.”

“My dear one, it would be impossible not to judge.”

Their gazes held for the first time and her brows furrowed. “I don’t judge you.” She immediately frowned, then amended, “Well, there is one thing that bothers me, but I understand. I don’t approve, but I’m not judging you—at least, I’m trying…really hard, not to.” 

“I imagine it has something to do with the tours.”

“No, not really. It’s sad, but you have to eat. I get that.”

“Then what?” 

She sighed. After a moment, she said, “I’d rather not discuss it.”

“Why? I wish to hear your thoughts.”

She gave a chuckle. “No, trust me, you don’t.” 

“You wish to know how the bodies are handled.”

“Oh no, I figured that out.”

He sensed that she was close to snapping. He wanted her to snap. “You didn’t know them.”

“But that doesn’t matter!” There. Her eyes were green, shining with anger. “For the love of God, it doesn’t  _matter_  if I knew them or not.  _Someone_  knew them. Someone loved them. Someone is probably going to mourn them.”

“What would you have me do? Starve?”

_Yes_ , he knew she’d say. Would she mean it? “Of course not,” she snapped, waving her hands about. “I mean, I eat meat.” She placed a hand to her chest. “But you don’t see me going around abusing cows, do you? No! Because they are alive, they have value. They feel pain and fear just like we do.” We. Did she realize she’d said it? “I respect cows. I like meat, I mean, I  _love_  a good hamburger; but that doesn’t mean I can’t also feel gratitude and respect for the cow’s existence. It had meaning. We shouldn’t act like it didn’t.”


	4. Drunk Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte suspects a terrible truth about Aro. Is it true?

He knocked, then entered. Charlotte’s head poked around a high-backed chair. “Well hello,” she drawled with a grin. “What brings you to my  _humble_  abode?”  

“As you may or may not recall, you expressed a desire to play chess. Though in light of current developments, a postponement seems apt.”  

“Because I’m drunk?” She giggled, watching as he made his way toward the hearth.

“I wouldn’t wish to take advantage.”

“Oh-ho-ho,” she teased, waggling her brows. “Such a gentleman. You probably invented the knight’s code.” 

“I have my secrets.”

“I bet you do. In any case, you may be right. Please don’t leave, though. I like your company.” She smiled lazily. “You’re so… _Marcus-y_.” She saluted him with an almost emptied bottle. Frowning, she focused on it, then looked to him with a giggle. “Did you know…that there was whiskey in my room?  _I_  didn’t know. I found it, and here I am.” She took a sip and grimaced. “Come, sit with me, my vampiric friend.”  

She was leaning back, slumped in her chair as he elegantly walked toward the hearth. He eyed her before gracefully sitting. She was busy watching her feet as she waved them side to side, then clicked them together. A smile tugged at her lips. After a moment, she glanced to him. Still slumped—only half in her seat, she inquired, “Want some?” She held out the bottle.

“No thank you.”

“Do vampires drink alcohol?”

“On occasion, though always mixed with blood.”

She eyed the bottle contemplatively. “I could add a few…bits of mine,” she offered. She lifted her wrist with wide-eyed innocence.

He smirked. “You tempt the Fates,  _piccola mia_.”

“I trust you,” she said with a shrug.

“Do you?”

She nodded. “Of course.” After a moment, she lowered her arm. Her gaze went to the floor as a deep stab of pain hit him. 

“Wanna know why I’m drinking?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” 

“Does it bother you that I’m…under the influence?”

“Does it bother me that you’re drunk?” he repeated, saying the word she’d been afraid to say.

She nodded. 

“I am more concerned with the fact that you seem troubled.” 

Brows raised innocently, she placed a hand over her heart. “What,  _me_?” He smirked. “Why ever would you think that?” 

“Vampiric intuition.” 

She giggled. “Vampiric intuition, huh?” She smiled for a bit, then let it fade as she grew serious. “Hope it’s not like my intuition.”  

Gazing at the bottle, she dangled it by its neck and swirled it in a circle, making the contents echo in the glass. She tilted her head lazily watching the dark liquid oscillate. “I inadvertently realized something,” she finally said. “And after that, I realized something else…and so on and so forth.”

“It was unpleasant.”

“To say the least.” Tired of dangling the suddenly heavy bottle, she slumped down until she placed it on the floor. She shifted, curling up in the chair. “I have come to the final realization that because I know something, I’m as good as dead.” She sighed mournfully. “I don’t even  _know_  know it. It’s just a hunch. But the thoughts are there.”  

“You fear Aro will punish you for this?”

She looked to him with a sudden clarity in her gaze. After a pause, she asked, “If Aro wanted you dead, could you stop it from happening?”

“Yes—and if Aro were to order your death, I would protect you as well.”

She cast him a smile, then it faded. “That wouldn’t end well.”

“He already knows I will protect you.” 

She wore a thoughtful expression. “You can’t always protect me. He’d find a way.” Her tone was accepting of the fact. If she’d not drank half a bottle of whiskey, he’d have wondered at her calmness.

“What has brought this fear of Aro?”  

She looked to him. A heavy sigh, before confiding, “I’ve come to the conclusion that the only person in all of the Volturi that can’t be trusted is Aro. Everyone else is being controlled.”  


	5. Marcus' Longing

His brows drew together with emotion. “You cannot know how long I have yearned for you,” he confided. “As though Medusa had turned me to stone, I was just as still and lifeless.”

Her heart pounded. “I…” Her lips parted, but what could she say? “I don’t…” 

“Forgive me. That was unforgivably forward.”

“No!” She cleared her throat. “No, it’s all right. I understand…at least in part. I can only try to imagine that kind of longing stretched across so much time.”

“And yet,” he stepped forward, eyes keen. “You have felt longing of your own.”

Again, her heartbeat sped up, this time in nervous excitement. “Of course…but I think everyone wants love.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He tilted his head, studying her face. “Even monsters?”

She gave a relieved huff. “That depends on the monster.” Really, she had no business trying to flirt. Philosophy was her preferred ground. 

“Ah, so there are more than one?”

“I think so.” She glanced about and spotted a bench. She looked back at him before taking a seat. He followed, gracefully lowering himself to the stone adornment with an inherent grace that made her own movements comical. She turned, angling herself in his direction. “You’re really graceful.”

“I’ve had many years of practice.”

She eyed him with suspicion. “Does that mean you used to be clumsy?”

“In my youth, the world was a much different place. Fluidity of motion has been equated with class status for most of my life. As one of higher rank, it was imperative that my outward appearance reflect an inward quality which set me above the common.”

“Wow…” she murmured, eyes moving over his face. “I know you just said that you’ve had to affect a facade for so long it’s just how you are now…but even the way you speak’s amazing. I know your vampiric nature involves some sort of mystical lure and all, but I’d still be impressed if you were a human.”

He tipped his head. “I thank you for your praise.”

She copied the gesture. “You are quite welcome.”


	6. Art Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte tries her hand at figure drawing.

 Charlotte sat on the floor, staring up at the statue with narrowed eyes. She tapped the end of her pencil against her lips. _Tap, tap, tap, tap_. Her lips pressed together. “Mmmm.” She looked from her sketch to the statue. It looked alright. Still, it looked like a drawing of a statue. With a groan, her shoulders slumped. The pose. It was just…wrong. Why couldn’t there be a statue of someone chilling in a chair? An idea popped into her mind. She slowly gazed toward the door. Perhaps Marcus would be willing to model for her?  _With his clothes on, of course!_  her scandalized inner self shrieked.  _Party pooper_ , she sighed.  

 Closing her sketchbook, she pushed up from the floor. She raised her arms above her head, stretching and Afton appeared. “Hey Afton?”  

“Yes, my lady?” he drawled.

She gave a playful growl, shaking her head. “Do you know where Marcus is?” 

“In the library, I believe. Shall I check?”

She tilted her head. “If you wouldn’t mind.” 

He gave a galant bow, then zipped away. _Tick, tick_ —he was back. She raised her brows. “He is, indeed, in the library.”

She nodded. “Awesome.”

“To the library?”

“Indeed,  _compadre_.”  

 

. . .

 

Immediately upon seeing him, a smile appeared. “Hi Marcus,” she said, giving a little wave. Even though she was several yards from him, she’d spoken at a normal volume. She chuckled when his head snapped up. He inclined his head. In the next instant, he was standing before her. “Hello,  _piccola_.” He offered her his arm. Blushing she took it, not-so-secertly thrilled—knowing that they could hear her pounding heart as he lead her to where he'd been sitting. “Hey Marcus?”

“Yes?”

“You know how you offered to help with any assignments if I needed it?”

“Of course,” he said with a nod.

“I was wondering if you’d maybe…well, I have this assignment for my art course. I'm supposed to draw the _'male form'_. And since _you're_  male and you _have form_...and I, uh, well…I was wondering if I could maybe use you for a reference?” She cringed, waiting for some form of embarrassment.

“I would be honored.”

She paused. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said, flashing that warm grin.

She beamed. Nearly bouncing in place, she hugged her sketchbook  “Oh my goodness, thank you! My older assignments were on the head, and since I’m really bad at art compared to all of you guys, I've just been using the statues; but now that we're doing the entire body, the statues are all suddenly super  _dramatic_ and _emotional_.”  

He chuckled. “You’ve no need to feel shy, Charlotte.”

Her cheeks heated. “Well, uh,” she cleared her throat. “I’ll go ahead and…uh…yeah.” She flipped open her sketchbook. Pencil poised, she looked to him. He was watching her. “You can go back to reading if you want.”

“I would like to watch you work.”

She exhaled. _Of course he would._ She fiddled with her pencil. “Just don’t judge me, okay? I’m really bad at this. I also apologize in advance.”

His lips twitched. “What would be the point in taking a class if you were already a master?” 

She saluted him with the pencil. “ _Touché_.”

 

. . .

 

“May I see?” he asked, leaning forward.  

Her eyes flared. “What? No!” Horrified, Charlotte clutched the book to her chest, cowering from his grasp.

“Surely, it cannot be that bad. I promise I won’t laugh.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. It  _is_  really bad though.”

“Please?” 

She looked to him. Oh, he just had to be all respectful and polite. He couldn’t have just tried to pry it from her hands. He had to make her feel guilty. “The assignment was to draw the figure nude,” she blurted out.  He didn’t even blink. “So I drew you…without any stuff on.” Oh God, she was a horrible person—mentally violating him!

“All the more reason to let me see.”

To her horror, she found herself handing him the sketchbook. He accepted it and she hid, cowering in a little ball against the chair. She peeked at him to gage his reaction. He merely flipped through the pages with an unreadable expression. Damn it. What was he thinking?  _Please don’t laugh_. His head tilted to the side. She groaned, hiding her face. “Why haven’t you drawn the penis?”

She stilled, heart rate kicking into overdrive.  _What?_  She shook her head. “I-I don’t know.”

He glanced to her. “Were you embarrassed?”

She shrugged helplessly.

He smiled slightly. “Your shyness is endearing, though unnecessary. Have you never seen that part of a man before?”

“No, I have…” she started. “I mean, not in  _person_  obviously, but…yeah.”  _I just don’t know how to draw non-erect ones_. Mainly because she’d been primarily interested in the sexual side of male genitalia. At the thought, she buried her face in her hands, too embarrassed to face him.

He regarded her for a moment, then closed the sketchbook. Rising, he pulled her from her chair.  “Come.”

“Where are we going?”

“You, my dear, are in need of an art lesson.”

Her brows furrowed. “I what?” Realization donned. Her eyes widened.  _No_. He couldn’t mean—! Mind whirling, she walking through the hall in a mental fog. Was he really going to—?  _Please do it!_  her inner self cheered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do y'all think? Is he actually going to show her his ancient phallus? Or is Marcus about to go full-on art teacher and show her a bunch of paintings with penises whilst he lectures about form and perspective? 
> 
> I know which one _Charlotte_ would prefer...


End file.
